She tied her shoes tightly to her feet, black and white Oxfords. Work to be done before the time of the great shun. Garbed in dark sky blue she changed a tune.
She stood on the moss covered ground where the weeds had popped up, young seedling sprouting here and there, crushed under her feet. The ivy before her covered the door, wet with rain falling. She moved forward unnerved and willing, pushing through time as her hands pulsed, the ivy moved to the side and through the arch she flew.
A charismatic song could be heard in the space around her as she entered the room. The lights were muted stars of times of old ready to be brought foward to brighten the way. The floors she now walked on were marble and cool, glossy with wear of time, indents of steps from the past to show the path.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
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